Pick Another Topic!
by Ster J
Summary: Spock is perturbed  Yes, perturbed!  when his friends obsess on a certain sensitive subject.


Title: Pick Another Topic!

Author: Ster Julie

Codes: TOS; K, S, Mc

Rating: PG

Part 1 of 1

Summary: Spock is perturbed (Yes, _perturbed!_) when his friends obsess on a certain sensitive subject.

-ooOoo-

It was rare for the Officer's Mess to be used for anything other than official business, such as the reception for the ambassadors attending the Babel Conference. When Kirk suggested to Spock that they, along with McCoy, eat their suppers in the OM, the Vulcan thought it to be an unusual but not unreasonable request.

Spock brought a bowl of soup, a mug of tea and a padd to the room. He was the first to arrive, so he covered his food to keep it warm and then read until the others arrived.

Kirk and McCoy entered together, trays in their hands and concerned looks on their faces. There was an awkward silence as the men tucked into their meals.

Spock was wondering the point of this exercise in futility as he waited three full minutes after finishing his meal. He gathered his things and prepared to leave.

"Wait, Spock," Kirk said hurriedly. "Don't leave just yet. We need to speak with you."

Spock was clearly puzzled. What could possibly make his two friends so nervous around him? Spock paused and waited for Kirk to continue.

"Uh, we've noticed some behavior that we find … worrisome," Kirk ventured nervously.

"What behavior?" Spock puzzled.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Well, for starters," he began, "you've hardly eaten all week."

"I see," Spock replied neutrally.

"And you've been prowling the corridors like a caged tiger," Kirk added. "You even made two yeomen and an ensign cry yesterday."

"They deserved a reprimand for inaccurate reports and dereliction of duty," Spock defended.

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Kirk asked.

Spock looked to McCoy as the doctor whirred a scanner over him.

"What do you think it is?" Spock asked icily.

"Is it … _pon farr_?" Kirk whispered.

Spock shook his head in frustration. "You learn two words in Vulcan and suddenly it's your favorite topic of conversation," Spock muttered. He raised a finger as he made his point. "I will have this conversation with the two of you just this once," he said firmly.

"I have taken meals in my quarters three times this week because I have been working on reports. These meals did not appear on my meal card because, like the alcohol you both have stashed in your quarters, I have food from home stored in mine.

"The reason that these reports have been taking so much of my time is because of one yeoman's clerical error and of another's negligence in failing to catch the error. The ensign over them tried to 'cover up' the error instead of reporting it. They deserved those reprimands.

"Finally, I am _not_ in _pon farr_, and I do not appreciate this topic being raised, as my mother would say, 'willy-nilly.'"

Kirk and McCoy shifted in their seats. The captain opened his mouth to speak in their defense, of how Spock's last _pon farr_ had so affected them (Kirk in particular), but changed his mind at the forbidding look on Spock's face.

"My mother used to dread her monthly cycles," Spock continued. "She dreaded the loss of emotional control that pre-menstrual syndrome brought and the pain of cramps that sent her to bed for two days. But what Mother hated the most was when her condition was discussed or even mentioned. My father and I knew what was happening to her, but we did not speak of it. He and I made a pact to silently support her through her condition without being obvious.

"I assure you, Gentlemen, that I am no where near my Time. I will inform you both when it approaches, so until that time occurs I respectfully request that we please _change the subject!"_

Kirk and McCoy sat back and absorbed Spock's tirade.

"Spock, what's got you so upset?" Kirk asked finally.

"Have you not heard a word, Jim?" Spock replied.

Kirk leaned closer with concern.

"A witness told me that those reprimands you gave were particularly vicious," Kirk continued. "What error could have merited such a diatribe? What error have you been tracking down?"

Flashes of dark emotion crossed Spock's face. "We had an extra oxygen module."

Kirk was puzzled. "From where?" he asked.

"From the EVA suits," Spock replied. "One of the suits had been skipped in the maintenance inspection, _your_ suit specifically. It was green-lighted even thought it only had ten percent oxygen in reserve." He took a deep breath. "As Dr. McCoy can attest, Jim, you and I have sustained many injuries on landing parties. I did not wish for more injuries—or worse–to occur from negligence. So you see, those reprimands were warranted."

Kirk looked into Spock's eyes. They reflected the fire of righteous indignation, of determined protectiveness, and the fear of loss of his dearest friend and captain.

Kirk laid a reassuring hand on Spock's arm. "Thank you for catching that, Spock," he said warmly, "for looking out for me. And accept our apologies on jumping to conclusions and bringing up a taboo subject."

Spock nodded. "Apology accepted," he murmured.

Kirk smile began as reassuring yet soon twisted into an impish grin.

"So your mother sent you another care package?" he queried. "Did she send any brownies?"

Spock sat back in dismay. Amanda's brownies were always the first thing to be depleted. Spock only allowed himself one per week to make the treats last. If Kirk was to help himself there soon would be nothing left.

"How about some brandy instead?" Spock suggested as he stood and motioned to the door. The other men took the hint.

"Vulcan brandy?" McCoy said with his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Probably tastes … logical."

"My estate produces a fine brandy which has won awards on seven planets," Spock informed as they proceeded down the corridor.

"You have an estate?" Kirk asked, incredulous. "What are you? A baron?"

"Something like that," Spock demurred. "I inherited it from my great-grandfather. It produces twenty percent of Vulcan's food supply."

"Your spread must be huge," McCoy observed.

"I do employ one thousand people at harvest time," Spock replied. McCoy whistled in response.

Spock entered his quarters first and turned down the temperature before calling Kirk and McCoy inside. He removed a small bottle from his storage cabinets along with three small bowls.

McCoy picked up the bottle and observed the golden liquid inside, the ornate Vulcan script and the image of a white-haired Vulcan holding out what looked to be a ball of fire to a small boy standing on a chair and leaning over the table toward him.

"Is that you and your great-grandpappy?" McCoy deduced.

Spock nodded. "The illustration was based on an image my mother captured on one of our visits," he said as he removed one of the weapons from his wall.

The Vulcan knocked off the top of the bottle with a practiced hand and poured out three small portions.

"Prepare to lose your footwear," Spock said cryptically.

"I think he means that this brandy will knock our socks off, "McCoy interpreted needlessly.

"I get the idea, Bones," Kirk responded. "What would be an appropriate toast, Spock," the captain asked, "or do Vulcans even toast before they drink?"

Spock thought a moment then replied, _"Nam-tor la'vral svi' du bezhun."_

"Here's mud in your eye," McCoy said before throwing back his shot.

_Gasp!_

"What's this stuff called?" McCoy wheezed.

"_Mos Masu Yon Kal,"_ Spock replied. "Soft Liquid Fireball."

"Well," Kirk choked, "it certainly is smooth as velvet going down, but I fell like I've swallowed a dwarf star!"

"I think you should rename it 'Jet Fuel,'" McCoy observed.

Spock poured them each another shot.

"Try to savor the taste this time," he instructed. "Hold it on your tongue, breathe in the vapors deeply." He gave the men time to follow his instructions, noting their surprised, appreciative expressions. "What did you experience?" Spock questioned.

"This would be great for landing parties on ice planets," Kirk observed. "This warmed me right up."

"Oh yeah," McCoy appreciated. "This could cure the common cold."

"But why would desert dwellers develop something like this?" Kirk wondered.

"They wouldn't," Spock replied, "but mountain-dwellers would. Remember, Vulcan has a varied range of geography."

Kirk raised the remainder of his shot of liquor. "Here's to Vulcan brandy."

McCoy followed suit, "Here's to care packages from home."

Spock raised his own glass and looked pointedly at his friends.

"And here's to picking another topic!"

-END-

McCoy was right! _Nam-tor la'vral svi' du bezhun_ means "Exist here mud in you eye_._"


End file.
